29.3.2000

A letter to Elise. A letter to someone. A letter to no one. It doesn't matter, I want more than words. I meant to be okay today, I promised myself I would.
I meant to study today, I promised myself.
I didn't mean to end up curled up in a little ball, rocking back and forth and screaming out loud. Even if I did do it earlier, I did it with hatred, I didn't mean to do it with pain. I didn't mean to feel anything.
I can't stop moving. You know, back and forth, slowly. I always do this when I'm more than upset. When I'm more than in pain. When I'm more than any word could describe.
It's so cold. So goddamn cold.
Did you think I was okay? Did they think I was okay? I don't know. I don't know anything. Why did they think I was okay? How could they, ignorant bastards. I hate them.
I hate myself. I promised I'd be okay. Why can't I keep even that one promise? Why does it have to be so hard?
Why does it have to be so hazy, so unreal, so not there. There's not even the question anymore. All the questions… gone. I think they died because there were never any answers. I think they suffered, like me. Or then I didn't suffer but they did. Perhaps it's contagious.
I meant to be okay today. I promised myself. The one last promise I couldn't keep.